Return to Normalcy
by Mistmantle
Summary: Just following up 3x01, because we all know 44 minutes isn't enough. Rusty and Sharon have a not-so heart-to-heart. Last pre-hiatus chapter is up, with lots of Fritz. It's extra-long! (:
1. Flight Risk

**_a/n- because _****thank goodness****_ the hiatus is over. _**

Rusty returned to the murder room after he heard Provenza walk away. He didn't think the lieutenant would push him to talk about _the other thing_, but he didn't want to take any chances. Sanchez, Tao, and Buzz had already disappeared, likely going home to their respective families. Provenza and Flynn were nowhere to be seen, but Rusty knew they were waiting for Sharon. Sykes was the only one in the room, still in her dress and boots, reading the card on her flowers.

"Hey, uh, Amy, I'm sorry about your case." He didn't know what else to say.

She didn't look up at first, sliding the card back into its envelope. "So am I."

"Is there anything I can do?" There probably wasn't, but he didn't want to hang around the room doing nothing and staying quiet.

"No, but thank you." She smiled at him slightly, and he smiled back, though it was probably more of a grimace.

She clipped her card back into the stand in the vase, and started over to the murder board. There was a bottle of cleaner and a rag on the desk nearest. Rusty grabbed them first and started to erase the unmistakable manifestations of love turned sour. "I'll get it." She seemed to understand, and left him to it, finding another chore for herself.

Rusty didn't know how much later it was when a hand fell lightly on his shoulder. He jumped and turned.

"That board has never looked better." Sharon's attempt at lightheartedness fell flat. She fidgeted with the buttons on her blush sweater. "Are you ready to go home?"

"Yeah."

She nodded. "I'm just going to say goodbye to Andrea, and grab my purse. I'll meet you at the elevators?"

It was a marked difference from where they'd stood even a year ago, when she refused to let him out of her sight. He agreed and walked away to get his own backpack, keeping an eye on her nonetheless.

She met Andrea just outside her office. They both looked tired. They talked quietly for a moment, and then hugged each other. Rusty was surprised. Sharon was a little touchy-feely, but she usually didn't go out of her way to hug people. He watched Andrea squeeze Sharon tightly, then they parted, fingers brushing.

Andy stopped Sharon on her way back with her purse. She smiled at him, and again, they talked in low tones that Rusty couldn't hear. Whatever she said, Flynn nodded agreement, mumbled something else, clapped her gently on the shoulder, and they parted ways. Rusty made himself busy buckling his pack when Sharon came back to him.

"Ready?" Her fingers danced across his shoulders in a now familiar gesture of comfort.

"Yeah."

They walked out in silence, through the long, orange halls. Sharon's heels clicked against the tiles. She pressed the down button with one finger, and they waited. When the elevator arrived, it was empty. They stepped in, and, again, Sharon pressed the button for the garage.

"I'm sorry about your case."

"I am, too," she said quietly. "I wish it hadn't happened this way."

He didn't know what to tell her.

"I'm sorry."

She nodded. "Thank you." She was quiet until they reached the garage, then spoke as they walked towards her little gold sedan. "Is there anything you wanted to talk to me about?"

His heart caught in his throat. "No?" The word came out like a question. "No."

She sent him a sideways glance. "You're sure?"

"Yeah." _Not right now._ Provenza's twenties were burning a hole in his pocket, and he was sure Sharon could at least smell the smoke, if not outright see the flames.

"Alright." She unlocked the car, glancing into the backseat before swinging into the driver's side. After Sykes had chewed him out the previous summer, he'd noticed Sharon checked her car, too. She wasn't paranoid, he wouldn't say that about her, but she was certainly more cautious than she had been when he'd first met her. Or maybe he had just started picking it up better. She always double-checked that the condo's door was locked, that no one was lurking in her car, that her gun was on her hip, and that he was safe. No one had ever done that for him before.

The ride home was almost normal. She asked if take-out would be alright; she didn't really feel up to cooking. It was? Good, what did he want? No, she wasn't going to pick again. She picked last time; it was his turn. Greek? Well, that was an unusual request, but she knew a good place, on the way home, even. He'd never had stuffed grape leaves? That was going to change. No, he would like them. She was pretty sure he would like them. Yes, it was a little bit like nori. The seaweed. No, she was sure he'd had that. _And liked it, even. _

They finally made it home. Sharon let them into the condo, and he watched as she kicked her heels off and threw her jacket over her desk chair on the way to her room. She wasn't happy. Her purse was dropped on her desk, and her badge clattered down a moment later. She called something about _being just a moment_ before disappearing into her room.

Four items dropped en route to the bedroom, five if you counted the shoes separately. On a one to ten scale of bad to worse, this constituted a twelve. She almost never left her things laying out.

Rusty took their two paper bags and set out the food on the dining table, along with dishes and silverware. He was about to fill the hot water heater, when it occurred to him that a twelve out of ten probably called for something stronger than tea. He grabbed a wine glass, and pulled the bottle out of the fridge, along with a can of soda.

Sharon shut the door quietly and slowly turned the lock. She just needed a moment. That was all. She unbuttoned the cardigan, a gift from Brenda last Christmas, and set it over the chair. The blouse followed, her slacks, and then she was standing mostly naked in her dark room, unsure what she was planning to do.

Maybe they could have found the kids alive if she hadn't withheld the information from Cee-Cee Logan. She might have cracked sooner. She should have followed up with the luggage and the blood-typing sooner. Perhaps if-

She cut herself off. They had done everything by procedure, done what had seemed best at the time. There was nothing they could change, nothing they'd done wrong. They'd done their absolute best.

She grabbed a throw blanket off the bed- God only knew where her robe was- and wrapped it about herself before racing across the hall to the bathroom. The mirror was carefully avoided until she had washed her face with steaming water and apricot scrub. She looked at her image critically. She looked tired, exhausted really, with deep, violet shadows under her eyes, enhanced slightly by the last vestiges of eyeliner that hadn't washed off. She sighed and pulled her hair back into a ponytail and left her makeup in her drawer. She peeked out and checked the hall, then darted back to her room.

She rummaged for sweatpants and a shirt. Rusty was the only other person in her current social circles who had seen her in sweats, and she intended to keep it that way. They were overlarge, dark grey, with "ABT" printed in curling script on the side and embellished with a dancer en pointe. Her daughter, Cat, had left them behind last time she'd visited. Cat wasn't going to get them back.

Sharon left the case behind her and walked back out to the main room. Rusty had already set the table. Her bottle of wine was out, and she laughed slightly. They were getting to know each other all too well.

"Thank you."

"Yeah."

She could tell that he was holding something back from her, but she didn't want to pry. She was holding back as well. Adoption was a big step, and even assuming Rusty wanted to go through with it, it was far into the future. He didn't need to know now. Whatever he was hiding, she was sure he'd work it out. He had changed from the boy she'd threatened outside her office on her first day to a young man who had a plan for his future, who was kind and at least somewhat more mature. She trusted him. There were so many times his world had gone up in flames, and instead of running away, he had run towards the fire, risking his life on multiple occasions that came readily to mind. Running towards danger wasn't always the smartest choice, and sometimes it wasn't the right choice, but she understood why he did it. She did it, too.

"Rusty?"

"Yeah?"

She reached out and grasped his hand.

"I'm glad you're here." She wasn't entirely sure what she meant by that, but it was true.

A strange expression washed over his face, so quickly she thought she might have imagined it. "I am, too. Glad I'm here. And you. You're here."

She smiled. "Good, because you're stuck with me. At least until that diploma is in your hands."

"Yeah," he echoed. Would she still feel the same if she knew Sharon Beck was only a few dozen miles away? At this point, his personal police captain still ranked higher in his mind than his own mother, but the grounds he was basing everything on seemed to be shifting. She didn't need to know, though. Soon, but not today. Today, they just needed to at least pretend to return to normalcy.

He glanced down at his plate and poked some kind of green roll thing. "What is this, anyway?"


	2. Personal Day

_**A/N- So much for this being a one-shot, haha. Do you guys like the 'after-episode' idea? Let me know (: thanks!**_

Sharon lifted her glass and took a sip of her wine. A rather large sip. The kind that would require her to refill the glass after a couple more sips like it.

She was sitting out on the balcony. It had just rained, and was still spitting a little. The sky was a bruised shade of lilac and the traffic noise from well over a hundred feet below seemed rather muted. The temperature had dropped to a cool fifty degrees.

All things considered, the meeting with Sharon Beck had gone rather well, in her opinion. Neither Rusty nor his mother had seemed able to start a conversation, so Sharon had done her best to direct the colloquy without asking too many blatantly nosey questions.

They had stayed for a little over an hour, which, for Rusty, was a huge success. He rarely talked to anyone for half that long. After maybe twenty minutes of Sharon's efforts to get everyone talking, he began to talk about himself a small amount and ask his own questions.

He'd paused after telling his mother that no, his favorite ice-cream wasn't chocolate anymore, it was Moose Tracks. It had stopped being chocolate the last time he'd been to a zoo.

Everyone had frozen for a moment. Sharon remembered looking down and quietly excusing herself to take a call from Flynn. He hadn't really called; she hadn't even had her phone out. It just seemed like a moment she didn't need- want- to intrude upon. She came back a few minutes later, after taking a couple of laps up and down the hall. Rusty and the other Sharon- it seemed odd to have another Sharon in such close proximity- were wrapping it up, standing, pushing their chairs in.

The last few minutes of the visit were awkward, not that Sharon expected much else. They all said goodbyes, and started, slowly, towards the door. Sharon Beck extracted a tentative "Maybe I can come by on Tuesday" from Rusty. He'd quickly tacked on "But I'm not sure! I need to get all my classwork done."

His mother had seemed slightly surprised, but assured him that school was very important, and she hoped he was doing well.

_"When is graduation?"_

_Rusty had glanced to Sharon, as if she'd know. She shrugged at him, but answered anyway. "Saint Joe's had graduation later in the summer, the end of June or so, when my children went there. I think they have it then so it doesn't conflict with anything. I don't know when it is this year, though, off the top of my head." There. She'd bought Rusty a little bit of wiggle room._

_"Thank you."_

That had been the odd thing about Sharon Beck. She seemed to constantly be thanking everyone for each slight thing they did for her: opening a door, pulling back a chair, giving her bits of information.

Sharon pushed the thought away. Everyone had their own unique quirks. God knew she had some herself.

She drained her glass and set it down gently on the railing. It was starting to rain a little harder, but she stayed, leaning against the baluster.

Rusty had seemed better afterwards, relieved he'd gone, glad to have answers. Sharon smiled to herself. She knew the feeling well.

She'd gone to see Jack _so _many times in the beginning. She'd seen him less frequently as time went on and certain events began to repeat themselves over and over. The second time she'd forced him into rehab, she found herself making excuses to avoid him. Cat had a ballet recital. Ricky needed to see his doctor for his six-week check-up after breaking his ankle, and no, it couldn't be rescheduled. She had been out on a case all night and had only gotten home an hour ago.

She'd felt almost paranoid after excusing herself, like Jack was going to somehow see her at home, at work, wherever she was that wasn't in the visitation room. It always felt better to go and see him, however little it helped either of them.

She was glad Rusty had gone. She was prevaricating between gratification and slight jealousy about Rusty's earlier visits to his mother. It was good that he was going to see her of his own accord, and showed that he felt for her. On the other hand, there were so many things _wrong_ with Sharon Beck! They couldn't be counted even if Sharon used both of her hands and all of her toes. She didn't want to lose Rusty to his mother. He had come so far from the boy who had insisted upon sleeping on her sofa until he received proof that she was actually trying to do her job and help him. He come far from the immature teen who gave his security the slip to go play chess. The fact that he'd done it on four separate occasions still gave her the shivers.

He was growing into an incredible young man. She knew her daughter didn't mind the idea of Rusty slowly merging into their family. Cat and Rusty hadn't met, but they had talked a little over the phone.

Ricky had seemed more opposed. One little sibling was bad enough, without her springing another half-grown boy on him so many years later. Sharon understood that. She just wished her son was a little more open. He said he would be visiting later in the fall, so maybe he'd come around then. She wasn't worried.

"Sharon?"

She jumped and turned around. "Rusty."

He leaned against the open glass door. "Everything okay?"

"Oh, yes." She smiled, maybe a little too brightly. "Just thinking."

"Oh." He looked up towards the skyline. "Are you going to come in? I don't think this is going to let up anytime soon. And you're-" he waved his hand toward her. "-kinda wet."

She glanced down. "Oh, goodness." Her sweater had passed 'damp' and was rapidly headed to 'thoroughly sodden.' She suddenly became aware that wet strands of her hair were stuck to her face. "I hadn't realized."

He snorted. "Yeah, I guessed that, Captain Obvious."

She smiled an honest smile. "Come on." She led the way inside, setting her empty glass down in the sink. "Do you want anything hot to drink?"

He shrugged. "Sure." She was in one of her weird post-emotional-upheaval moods. It happened from time to time, like when Jack left again, when that Poster Boy kid had died, after the letters and the whole thing in the condo eight floors down. He didn't like to think about that.

Things like this seemed to happen sometimes when she got lost in the past. He didn't really know what to do about it. It wasn't like there was a manual on police captains who were far too nice for their own good and pretended not to be. So he just went with it.

"Do you wanna watch something?"

She was halfway to her room. "Sure. Just let me change clothes."

"What do you wanna watch?"

"I picked last time, if I'm not mistaken. It's your turn." She vanished down the hall.

"How about _Alaska State Troopers_?"

"Rusty." He could hear the amusement in her voice.

"_What Not To Wear__._"

"Rusty, do you even like that show?"

He flipped the channel again. "Maybe if I watch it enough, I'll like it."

She snorted, walking back into the room. She had changed into jeans and a different sweater, glancing at him as she made her way to the kitchen.

"_Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives_?"

Her head popped back around the wall. "You'd watch that?"

He tried for his best poker face, the one Jack had coached him through. "I guess." He waited for a moment. "No, it'd be cool. Food shows really aren't as bad as everybody says they are."

She smiled at him. "Okay."

A few moments later, he watched her bring two mugs out. One would be chai with skim, hers, and the other would be his, in whatever flavor-of-the-week hot chocolate she'd bought. Once she'd found that he liked hot chocolate _much_ better than tea or coffee, she'd started experimenting with flavors, bringing home white chocolate, orange, mint, and extra marshmallow.

He took the cup from her hand and let the steam warm his face. It was peanut butter hot chocolate. He almost laughed. He never could have guessed that there were so many flavors, and that she'd go to the effort of finding out what he liked.

When he had first moved in with her, he had expected it to be temporary, at most a couple of weeks. She had tried to accomodate him, but he hadn't made it at all easy. When she'd asked what he'd like for dinner, he usually answered with something vague: 'whatever' or 'I don't care.' She didn't have to ask now, because she knew.

Now, living with her seemed permanent. He had posters up in the room that was now his. He had keys to her spare car, and had met some of her family.

He didn't know what he wanted to do. If Dr. Joe asked him, he'd say he definitely _did not_ want to go live with his mother again, but he didn't want to, like, _keep_ imposing on Sharon if there was an alternative. She told him a million times that she didn't mind, that she liked having him around, that she got something out of it.

He shook his head slightly. Right now, he didn't need to worry about that. There was still time, and, to be honest, he and Sharon just needed some down time, a personal day, without worrying about cases or family or the future. He scooted a little closer to her and pulled one of the blankets across the sofa because her feet would be cold, like always.

"Where's the show this time?"

**_A/N- I'm assuming the "happy event" in 3.8 is going to being Rusty graduating, or getting his diploma. Not that I'd complain if it was Sharon's divorce, or her and Andrea (or Andy) announcing that they're together (; haha._**


	3. Letting It Go

_**A/N- Oh, the feels in this ep, hmm? I hope you enjoy this. **_

Rusty could feel Sharon's eyes on him as he dropped the phone back on the table, but when he looked up, she was intensely focussed on her laptop.

He glanced back at the phone, and this time, he knew she watching him, because she spoke while he stared at the black screen.

"Watching your phone isn't going to change anything."

He tore his attention away from the device and looked at her again. This time, she was sitting with her hands folded over her closed computer.

"I know."

"I know you know," she replied loftily. "I'm telling you because you don't want to know."

He blinked. What was _that_ supposed to mean?

It was like she read his mind. "You know, logically, that you can't change what your mother has done already or what she's doing now, but you don't want to believe it."

"If I went to pick her up-"

"You would be just be helping her to get what she wants." Sharon's face was expressionless, a blank slate. It was the same mask of professionalism she used when she tried to explain something about his mother as though she hadn't gone through a nearly identical trial years before with her own husband. Rusty knew what cards she would play, even if he didn't know her exact hand.

"But what if something happens to her, and I could have prevented it by getting her?"

Sharon sighed. "Your mother made a decision when she skipped out of the halfway house, when she gave you a false prescription, when she-" she paused, a strange look washing over her face. It was a complex of curiosity, sorrow, and anger. "When you and she had your discussion."

He hadn't told Sharon what had happened, not exactly. He had come home before her, in tears, much to his annoyance. Once he'd locked himself into the condo, he'd started his homework in a fury, and almost finished by the time Sharon got home, close to an hour later. He hadn't said anything, but she had immediately known something was wrong.

* * *

_"Rusty? Are you home?" Her keys clattered against the table by the door, and he heard the hall closet door creak as she put her jacket and purse away._

_"I'm at the table," he called. Thankfully, his voice sounded normal. "Just finishing up some physics stuff."_

_"Physics?"_

_He winced. She had unconsciously adopted the slow, slightly higher-than-usual tone that she used when she was curious, and trying to pry information out of someone._

_"Yeah. I finished everything else, and all this physics stuff is due on Wednesday."_

_"You're finished with everything else?"_

_She came around the corner and rested her hands on the back of his chair, peering over his shoulder at the papers scattered across the table, decorated with images of cannons firing perfectly round rocks off of cliffs. "So you're supposed find the speed at the moment of impact?"_

_"Yeah."_

_She hummed noncommittally. "How did your visit with your mother go?"_

_There it was._

_"Uh, okay, I guess."_

_She leaned around the side of the chair and peered at him for a long moment. "Didn't we just have a discussion about telling the truth?"_

_He pushed away from her. "It sucked. Okay, Sharon? It really, truly, sucked. I told her about the whole prescription thing, and she, like, flipped out. And then she totally tried to guilt trip me about it. So the truth is that it sucked, okay?"_

_She looked surprised and slightly hurt by the outburst. "I'm sorry." He would tell her more if her wanted her to know. "What happened?"_

_He frowned and began to gather his homework up. "We had this fight about-" His hand froze on his calculator. "-About some stuff that she was insinuating, and I walked out." He turned away and began to walk towards his room. _

_Partway across the living room, he stopped. It wasn't Sharon's fault, the way things had turned out. She didn't have anything to do with it; she had been nothing but supportive the whole way._

_He turned back. She was still standing at the table. "I'm sorry."_

_"Oh, Rusty, you have nothing to apologize for."_

_He came shuffling back. "I was being rude, you can't deny that."_

_She shrugged. "Teenagers can be rude. I'm not offended."_

_He looked at her, but she didn't say anything, merely leaned against the table with a faint smirk. She was trying to make him feel better. "Okay." He dumped everything back on the table. "Can we just, like, leave this for now and get something for dinner? Because it's, like. . ." he peered at her clock. "Eight thirty, and I'm hungry."_

_"Alright. Just promise me that if you need to talk about this to someone, you'll call Doctor Joe."_

_"Really, Sharon?"_

_She shrugged. "It never hurts to talk. If you feel comfortable talking with me, you're welcome to, but I want you to know that you don't have to."_

_He snorted. "I got it."_

_She smiled and began walking towards her room. "Alright. Pick something out that you'd like; I need to get a shower." She stopped and stuck her head back around the corner. "But if you order pizza, please get vegetables on half of it. Unlike you, I do enjoy green things."_

_"What? Meatlover's wasn't your style?"_

* * *

"Sharon, what if something bad happens? Like what you do." He didn't want to come right out and say the m-word, but it was in his mind.

She got up and came to sit next to him on the sofa, regarding him seriously. "Did she sound afraid when she called just now?"

"No, not really."

"Does she have friends here?"

"I don't know. I think so?"

"Does she have any money with her?"

"Unless she's done something really stupid, then yeah. I-" he paused. "I gave her some cash the other day. Is that bad?"

"No, no, it isn't."

"Sharon? Is giving her money, is that enabling, or whatever?"

She sighed and leaned back into the sofa. "Before we get into that, you didn't know what she was doing. You thought it was going towards normal necessities and rent."

"But?" he prodded her.

"It is enabling to give money to an addict when you suspect that your gift will not go towards what you intended."

"What do you mean?"

She was quiet for a long moment. "Many years ago, before Jack and I had legally separated, he came to me, asking for money. He told me he needed to make a down payment on an apartment, and he was a little short. I gave him what he wanted, and he vanished for a few weeks before showing up again. As it turned out, there was no apartment, just a poker tournament. Which he lost." She smiled wryly. "And so he needed somewhere to stay for a few nights. He stayed at my home for close to three weeks before I sent him out to get his own place. I believe that was when I instituted the two-night rule. I was enabling him with cash, with a place to stay. Even allowing him to keep coming back was enabling, to some extent."

Rusty watched her. She seemed lost in history. Eventually she shook her head slightly and came back to him.

"The best way to help your mother, I think, is to be aware of what she may be trying to manipulate you into doing, and to know how to say 'no.' Saying no is one of the hardest things to do, but it is one of the best things you can do for her. Given what you've just told me, your mother will probably be just fine. If you are really worried, I can-"

"No, Sharon. I can't ask you to do _more_ for her after all of this."

"It isn't a prob-"

"No. Thank you," he added quickly. "I think you're right. I think it's time she sorts this out by herself. If she really needs me, she has my number, and she can leave a message."

Sharon nodded. "I think you're making a good decision."

"It's hard." The words came out so quietly he wasn't sure if he'd said them aloud.

"Letting go is always hard." Sharon's response was almost as low. She inched closer and slipped her arm around the boy's shoulders. "Sometimes it breaks your heart."

He wondered if that was what Jack had done to her. If it was what his mother would do to him.

"I have you."

She looked at him in surprise. He could see it written all over her face. Surprise gradually changed to something softer. "You do. I also have you and I am _never _letting you go. Don't you forget that."

He leaned into her. "I won't, Sharon. Don't worry."


	4. Do Not Disturb

He got a text from Sharon, after, like, _hours_ of waiting it seemed. He had finished all of the SAT prep Buzz had given him, read a little ahead in his assigned novel, and even found time to research a couple of new chess strategies Dr. Joe had used against him.

He gathered his things from the break room and made his way to her office. The door was closed, so he knocked before entering.

"Sharon?"

She glanced up at him, and he could see she was on the phone.

_Just a minute_, she mouthed.

He nodded and retreated to one of the chairs in front of her desk.

"Apologize to your husband for me, please. I can't believe Provenza said that. . . We are going to have a discussion about respect. Anyway, would you be free for lunch sometime this week? That would work just fine. . . _Sharon_, please. I thought we were past that. Bye." She was smiling when she turned back to Rusty. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah." He swung his bag over his shoulder and made a beeline for the nearest exit, but she reached out and grabbed his arm before he could open the door.

"Well?" She looked at him, with thinly veiled curiosity on her face.

"Well what?" He knew what she meant, but he was hoping she wouldn't press him on it.

"How did it go out there?" She cocked her head slightly to the side, like she always did when she was nosing around for information.

"Apparently they were all, like, betting on who Amy's boyfriend was. I think Buzz lost or something."

"Mmm. He seems to lose rather frequently, doesn't he?"

"I asked him that and he said 'not as much as Sykes, thank God.'" Rusty held his fingers up to quote the words while he did a rather decent impression of his begrudging tutor.

"Maybe I should have helped him out. I know the winning horses in all of these bets they make." She led the way out of the room. "Maybe I should have gotten in on that round."

Rusty was sure he had misheard her.

When they reached the elevators, she turned to him again. "I'm glad they didn't terrorize Amy too much, but how did-" she paused, her hands half-upraised while she was trying to phrase her thoughts. "How did. . . _coming out_ go?" She said the whole thing in a stage whisper, as though there was someone to overhear them.

He shot her a look. "Really, Sharon?"

She had the decency to look slightly ashamed of being so overtly nosey, but then she reached for her pocket. "I could always ask Lieutenant Pro-"

"No, no. Look, it went. . . okay? I guess. I don't know what you're supposed to do, and like, it was all hypothetical, like when you're interviewing someone and they want a deal and you want to know what they know, you know?" He flushed slightly, aware that his eloquence dropped exponentially when he was stressed.

She raised an eyebrow.

"And, like, I guess it was okay. I mean, nobody really seemed to care. They all looked kinda funny for a second, and then Julio laughed a little and Lieutenant Provenza yelled at him, and then everybody got all over Sykes." He paused again. "Do you think Julio is okay with everything, or-"

Sharon cut him off with a hand. "You're worried because he laughed?"

"Well, yeah."

"Oh, honey." Sharon pulled him close for a hug, then held him at arm's length again. She seemed almost embarrassed. "Oh, honey, they all knew."

There was a long silence as the words sunk in.

"What?"

She sighed, smiling. "They've known. All of them. Probably for quite some time."

"Did you tell them?" He was starting to get worried. Maybe they were all just faking being nice and-

"No, I did not. I can't be honest about you, for you, remember?"

"Then how-?"

"Sometimes you just know. And Rusty, I don't think they give a _damn_ about it. They like you the way you are, and whatever your dating preference is, it's not going to change their ideas about you. Unlike some people, they are mature enough and worldly enough to know that it doesn't matter one way or the other as long as you're kind and safe."

He knew she really must have meant what she was saying, because she swore. Sharon never said 'damn.' At least, not that he'd ever heard. 'Some people' was clearly aimed at his mother, and the rest of her little speech sounded like what she'd told him last summer, although he supposed 'safe' might not mean exactly the same thing in the current context.

"You're sure?"

"I'm positive." She stepped into the elevator as it opened. "Did I ever tell you about Cat's experience dating the boys from her ballet school?"

"No. . ." What did her daughter have to do with anything?

She grinned. "Oh, have I got a tale for you. So, when she was sixteen, I told her she was old enough to date a boy, if she wanted to, so long as they followed some rules I had set up when Ricky was her age."

"Oh my God, what is it with you and the rules?" He was half-laughing when he said it, and she smiled back as the doors closed.

"In this case, they _were_ needed, you see, Arthur kept her out far too late on school nights, but not for the reason you'd think. . ."

* * *

Fritz unlocked his front door and hung his jacket from its peg with a sigh. He could hear the muffled sounds of a conversation from the other room, so he walked out to the kitchen to take a seat and untie his shoes. Brenda was on the phone, so he waited for her to finish.

"Mmhmm. Of course I will. An' say hi to Rusty for me, please. Um, Wednesday? Okay, that'd be perfect." She turned to smile at her husband and held up a finger. _One moment_. "See you later, Cap'n Raydor. Sharon." She laughed slightly and said goodbye before hanging up the phone. "Fritzi!"

"Hello, Brenda."

She dropped into the chair next to him. "Now, I don't know what on earth you've gotten into, but Cap'n Rayd- _Sharon_- I can't get used to callin' her that._Sharon_ says to tell you that she's very sorry about Lieutenant Provenza's behavior today, and she will have a word with him about the meanin' of 'respect.'" She watched him pull his socks off. "What'd he do?"

"You ought to drop by and see them more often," Fritz replied, smiling slightly. Brenda had seen Sharon many times since the Captain had taken over Major Crimes, but she hadn't seen her old squad but a few times after hours. She'd called them, of course, but not actually gone back to Parker Center. Fritz wasn't entirely sure why, but he suspected that the station was haunted by the ghosts of Brenda's past, that she knew it, and wasn't quite ready to face them.

"Maybe." Her eyes wandered across him, and caught on his hand. She seized it gently and ran her fingers over the bruising on his knuckles. "What happened?"

"I punched out a former foreign diplomat."

"You what?!" Her brown eyes were wide and her mouth dropped open. "Ooh, Fritzi, what did you do?!"

"Honey, relax." He set his other hand on top of hers. "It was a minor scuffle, and I threatened to arrest him for terrorism in an American police station if he didn't behave. Raydor was right there the whole time, and she never said anything to me, so I don't think I broke too many laws."

Brenda snorted despite herself. "She would have let you know, so I guess everythin's alright then." She got up to stir a large pot on the stovetop. "Other than that, did it all go okay?"

"Yeah. Raydor got her murderer, a material witness, and I got the guy I hit to go back to India."

Brenda paused. "Was he that _awful_ Councilor you were tellin' me about the other day?"

"One and the same."

"Oh." She turned the stove off. "Well, that's good. From what you said, he seemed like a horrible man."

"What's this?" Fritz waved to her cooking.

"Oh, I just wanted to try one of my mama's recipes tonight. You know how I got that whole box of cookbooks from Daddy last time I went home?"

"Yeah."

"Well, there was a notebook with a whole bunch of recipes written into it. I thought we could try one."

He nodded, watching her get silverware and dishes out. "You've become quite the cook, lately."

"Well, I'm not on-call at all hours of the night now, and we're both usually home for dinner, so-"

He pulled her into his lap. "I don't need explanations; I'm just impressed."

"Jus' wait until you taste it."

He looked down at her. "Do you think it would wait for a little bit?"

She glanced up, frowning. "Yes, but why-?"

He kissed her on the mouth. "Because," he mumbled.

She laughed. "Sharon told me it's best to eat after exercise. I guess she goes swimming every morning before breakfast."

"Keep that woman out of our bedroom."

He could hear the smile in Brenda's voice when she reminded him that they were in the kitchen.

"I guess we'd better fix that problem." He swept her up as he stood and she shrieked. "No lieutenants or captains or material witnesses to interrupt anymore. I love your new job."

**_A/N- I guess this was probably more Fritz and Brenda than Sharon and Rusty, but I missed Brenda a little last night. I don't necessarily think she should come back long-term, but I wanted to say hi. This was obviously totally just fluff, on both sides. I hope it came across, but I think Brenda's changed since her policing days. I'd like to believe that she's more of a people person now, and not quite so job-driven. Who knows? (:_**

**_ update- just so you know, I'll be out of town for almost the entirety of the next three weeks. I'm riding through Wyoming (USA) on a bike, then going to Montana to work at a camp for kids. Needless to say, I won't have much access to this. I'm hoping to get caught up in the days I'm home, so this isn't going to end, don't worry. Thank yew! (;_**


	5. Jane Doe No 38

**_A/N- I missed most of the first half of this episode, and it's a minor miracle I saw any of it, haha. I wrote this on paper while I was out biking across the boonies of Wyoming, so it might not be completely canon? I think it all works, but I missed so much I'm not sure. I'll watch the ep. later and fix what needs fixing. In the meantime, I'm certainly missing next Monday, and will return home the following Sunday, so hopefully I can get the next chapter up then. A couple of my fingers are taped together, too, so please excuse my mis-typing. Deepest apologies... Thank you ALL for the follows and reviews and patience. xoxo- Mistmantle_**

Sharon awoke early that morning, the better part of an hour before her usual 6 AM alarm. She had slept well, with no strange noises, no dreams, no early morning call-outs.

She knew why she was awake, however. The two documents on her desk were calling to her, singing a Siren's song that reached through walls and doors.

There was the smaller packet- the adoption- and the entire tree's worth of paper- the divorce. She had thought about calling Ricky and Emily to let them know what she was doing before Jack did, but she decided against it. All things considered, they more than likely didn't give a damn about a divorce. Jack had been gone for so long that Emily hardly remembered him, and Ricky felt little more than disdain and a faint memory of laughter.

On the other hand, an adoption was far more likely to knock the Raydors off their feet. Sharon found it almost humorous how a long-awaited addition becoming permanent would cause more trouble than a long-needed subtraction becoming official.

In some sick sense, Sharon had hoped Jack would sign the divorce rather than the adoption, and in all the fuss over future finances and back payment, Rusty's adoption could slip past everyone quietly. Not that it wasn't a big deal- because it was- but so it could be as easy of a transition as possible.

What she hadn't expected, hadn't hoped for, was Jack's cold rejection of both proposals. No adoption, no divorce.

In hindsight, asking her husband- no, _demanding _he wait in her office was perhaps a little cruel. She didn't feel bad for making him wait, however, she only felt sorry to have begun turning him against her before she even laid out the papers and opened her attack.

_"I'm entitled to half of your savings and half of your pension."_

_"You're not going to get a penny from me, Jack."_

She set the papers down and forced herself away. A cup of tea would help, maybe two cups. Maybe. She found the largest mug in her kitchen and filled it to the brim with uncharacteristically sweet and milky Irish breakfast, before seating herself on the patio.

The sun was just rising, and she basked in the uncommon quiet of the city. She watched the sky turn from deep blue to robin's egg and lavender, complete with dusty streaks of ruby and orange.

She tumbled from the reverie when her teabag gave her nose a soggy smack when she tried to take another sip. She was out of tea, and half an hour had passed. Nonetheless, Rusty still wouldn't be up for another fifteen or twenty minutes, which was how Sharon ended up back outside, this time with her cellphone.

She never would have numbered herself among the poor souls who called their exes in desperation at god-awful hours, yet here she was.

Her fingers tapped out Jack's number on the keypad, as opposed to looking him up in her contacts.

The line rang several times, and she was about to give up when there was a click.

"Jack-"

"Hello, you've reached Jackson Raydor. I'm afraid I'm away from the phone now, so leave your name and number. I'll call back as soon as I can."

Sharon froze. There was a beep, and all she could hear was her own breathing.

"Jack-" her voice cracked. "Jack, I know you're there. Hear me out. What harm can adopting Rusty possibly do to you? If you sign, it'll hardly take any time to make official, and I suppose it'd even look good on a resumé." She laughed bitterly. "Orphan adopter. People around here would like that." She paused. Anger wasn't going to help her now. "Or if you're really so against it, there's the divorce. Honestly Jack, we've been separated for. . . what? It's coming up on twenty-three years now, isn't it? What's so terrible about putting to paper what we've already done?" She knew. It was a confession of guilt, like what she forced suspects to write out for a deal. Was her life to be one continuous string of plea bargains? "And no, I'm not going to give you my savings or my pension, but I'm not asking you for anything, either." A thought hit her, and she stopped again.

"Actually, Jack, I suppose that's not entirely true. I love you, and I hope you still harbor some warm feelings towards me, but what we have isn't working anymore. It's been broken for decades, and we can't fix it now." She felt a tear roll down her cheek, and its presence shocked her. "I'm asking you to let me go. Just-"

The phone beeped, signaling the end of the recording. Then there was a creak, and Sharon turned suddenly at the noise.

There was no one there. Her imagination must be running rampant, she thought, fueled by embarrassment and tears.

* * *

Rusty held his breath as he pressed up against the wall. He hadn't expected Sharon to be on the phone when he woke up early, let alone to be on the phone and _crying._ From the little he'd caught, it sounded like she had been talking to Jack. Which was bad, because it meant the tears had something to do with. . . with what Jack had blabbed the other day.

Either way, he hadn't ever really seen her cry, and he didn't know what to do. He knew what _he_ would want: privacy. So he crept back to his room, slipping through the half-open door and easing onto the bed.

He had just pulled the duvet over his head when he heard footsteps outside his door. He forced himself to relax and breathe. Sharon had had two kids and holding his breath while "sleeping" would be a dead giveaway to her.

He nearly blew his cover anyway when she came and sat carefully on the edge of the bed. He closed his eyes and twitched slightly, because no one held perfectly still when they were asleep. He almost forgot to breathe, but remembered a few moments later.

Her hand was cool and steady as she folded the covers back a little, to give him fresh air, and then smoothed his hair. Her breath was uneven, though.

A few agonizingly long minutes later, she got back up and he heard her make her way to the bathroom. He waited a few moments longer, then set about noisily waking up.

He had just shuffled to the door in a painstakingly accurate portrayal of semiconsciousness, when she re-emerged into the hall, still smoothing fresh concealer out under her eyes.

"Hey," he mumbled.

"Good morning." She sounded quiet, but her voice was steady, and that was a few steps up from crying.

He mentally noted the fact. The best thing now was to steadfastly ignore the notion that anything was out of the ordinary. Over the past two and a half years, he'd come to realize that Sharon was more like him than he would have ever guessed. Holding the theory to be truth, as he had so far, he asked what he asked almost every morning.

"What kind of cheese do you want in your omelet? You had better not say cheddar. You _always_ have cheddar." It was their most common argument now: breaking Sharon away from her repetitive meal plans.

She snorted. "You know what? It is time for a change."

"What?" He was already halfway down the hall, not expecting an answer. He looked at her. "Really?"

"Mmhmm." She smiled, a teasing expression on her face. "I think there's Swiss in the cheese drawer. How about that?"

"Okay."

This time, he was almost to the kitchen when her words reached him.

"And Rusty?"

"Yeah?"

"Remember to breathe when you sleep. I can't have you asphyxiating while I'm trying to adopt you. The courts don't tend to take well to that kind of thing."

He froze. She had called him out, utterly and completely.

She came up behind him and half-hugged him with one arm. "I appreciate the effort nonetheless," she said softly. "Thank you."

She was gone before he could say anything, but he wasn't worried. She couldn't feel too upset about Jack or whatever if she was still teasing him.

He rolled his eyes. Cops and their sick senses of humor. He didn't get it.


	6. Two Options

_**A/N- I really liked Ann, to be honest. I thought all the previews were hyping her up, but she's pretty cool. I think she's a lot like Sharon, to be honest. We only have, what? Three more episodes this summer? I think I'll be able to catch them. Certainly next week's. Who else is excited to meet Ricky? (: Thanks for sticking around!**_

"Captain."

Sharon turned back and peered down the hall. She had just crossed the main lobby and was headed for the elevators. Many of the lights in Parker Center were on an automatic schedule and had already turned off for the night, so she wasn't sure who was hailing her.

"Commander?"

Ann McGinnis strode out of the darkness, looking tired in her still spotless navy uniform. She had let her hair loose and wispy blonde strands were tucked behind her ears.

McGinnis came to a stop a short distance away. She seemed at a loss for words. Sharon didn't supply any either, too weary to make an effort.

"How is. . . is Julio? That's right, isn't it?" the commander finally managed.

Sharon smiled. Even in the midst of the day's terror and pressure, she had been able to tell that the Commander shared something special with her men. Her boys. Sharon was sure McGinnis called them her 'boys'. That's what she herself had done, back in FID. Yes, the eldest of them was Provenza's age, but they were still boys at heart.

"Yes. I haven't been to see him yet, but I've been assured that it's not much more than superficial. I think Amy and some of the boys-" _Oops._ "-are staying with him until his mother gets there."

McGinnis raised her eyebrows. "Mother?" It was a light, teasing tone that, once again, Sharon recognized as one of her own frequented timbres.

"Mmhmm. Although I wouldn't be surprised if a certain DDA gets a call tonight after the señora falls asleep."

McGinnis' expression tightened, and Sharon was quick to correct herself.

"I don't believe you've met her. Emma Rios? She and Julio are close, I think."

McGinnis shook her head. "The DA's office is hiring so many hot-blooded young things nowadays, it seems like. I can't keep them straight anymore."

Sharon snorted. "They could all take a page or five out of Andrea Hobbs' book."

"Amen."

They both laughed, the hall echoing as they walked towards the elevators together.

"Say, Ann?"

"Yes?"

Sharon paused briefly as she contemplated her words. "Would you like to come over sometime? I know my team is planning something for Rusty's graduation, and you'd be more than welcome to join." She knew that Ann had made friends and allies by herself, but it never hurt to widen one's circle. She had been in a position vaguely similar- she wouldn't dare say she had had near as much trouble and pain as the commander- after Jack had left. She'd had Em and Ricky, but nonetheless, she'd become closely acquainted to loneliness and aimlessness, especially after they'd left home for college. She wouldn't admit aloud, but she'd been glad for every invitation for drinks and celebration or working lunch, even if she'd had to turn some down.

"I thought yours were both through college already. Who does Rusty belong to?" Ann reached for the elevator call button.

Sharon smiled. "Me. He-" She paused as Ann's mouth dropped slightly.

"Oh, I didn't realize you had-"

Sharon laughed again, unable to hold it back. "He's adopted, or will be. We're in the process of adoption."

"Oh." Ann grinned. "For a minute there, you had me thinking. . ."

"Jack wasn't around much, but I couldn't have looked at any of my boys in FID like that," she laughed. "Two of them were half my age and the other two graduated the academy before I was born."

"Oh, God, I know." Ann glanced over, trying to gauge what her boundaries were. "I bet that Lieutenant Flynn was a looker a couple decades ago, though." She threw out a wild guess. The pair had seemed close, from what little interaction she'd seen, but it wasn't likely to be any more than another tight friendship, forged under the pressures of the job.

A blush colored Sharon's face slightly. In the lighting, Ann thought she might have been imagining it.

"I was too busy sending him and Provenza to sensitivity to really notice."

"So you say," she smiled.

The elevator arrived, and they both stepped in, pressing the buttons for their separate floors.

"But Rusty is graduating this summer? College?" Ann returned to the original topic.

"High school. It's a long story, and I'll have to tell you the full saga sometime, but he was a witness in the closing case against Phillip Stroh-"

"Ahh, I think I've heard some of this on the grapevine. You took him in, didn't you?"

"Chief J- Brenda- Brenda Johnson couldn't keep him, obviously, so he ended up with me, and we've gotten attached, I suppose. I don't honestly know how it happened, but I'm glad it did."

"You've always been a sucker for kids."

"Is that what the grapevine says about me now?"

"I saw your murder board."

Sharon sighed. "I don't know if we'll ever solve that one, but I hope so."

"I hope so, too."

The elevator stopped, this time on Sharon's floor.

"I'll see you around, Commander. Have a good evening."

"Same to you. Oh!" Ann darted forward and leaned out of the elevator slightly. "I'd love to join you all for Rusty's graduation. Just let me know the date and address, and I'll be there."

"I'll bring one of his invitations around after he picks them out. Gives us another chance to catch up." Sharon smiled. "Feel free to bring anyone you like. Your team, whomever."

"I'll have to tell Chad to work on his manners then," Ann called as the elevator doors closed again.

Sharon slowly made her way down the hall. So many problems could be fixed by just reaching out and having a little human contact. It wasn't like Ann McGinnis needed fixing; it wasn't like _any_ of them needed fixing _au moment_, but sometimes, it was the preventative care that mattered most.


	7. Cutting Loose

**_A/N- I choose to firmly believe that Andrea was at that party, and I just didn't see her. Yeah? And, as I recall, the cake was blue..._**

Rusty watched Sharon as she leaned against the wall of the living room. Andrea stood next to her, giggling- _actually giggling_- and waving one hand around. Sharon was clearly imitating something that had happened earlier, that seemed to do with swooning and the movie star guy. Andrea's face was pink and although Rusty couldn't hear the words from across the room, he could hear Sharon's loud howl of laughter.

She never laughed like that normally.

He didn't know why the prospect of a celebration had gotten her so excited, but it had, and she went the full nine yards with it. There was a cake, balloons, party hats, and sparkling apple juice. She must have come home over her lunch hour and set it up, because it hadn't been there in the morning, and it was already up when they'd walked through the door a few hours previously.

He didn't know what she had done regarding his 'friends.' He didn't see people his age there, and though it didn't bother him, he wondered what she'd tried to do.

There were plenty of people, though. Sharon had always seemed to be a private sort of person, and Rusty could count the number of people he'd seen in her home on his fingers. Now there were about a dozen people hanging out in her- W_hat had Lieutenant Provenza called it?_- her batcave. And the funny thing was that she seemed to enjoy it. Julio had gotten fingerprints all over her stainless steel fridge while hunting for ice cubes, and Amy and Lieutenant Cooper were _surely_ getting crumbs on the sofa with all the secretive tickling that was totally obvious.

And she didn't care.

Another hour on, people began to trickle out, until it was just Sharon and Rusty and Flynn. Rusty flopped down on the sofa that Amy and her boyfriend _hadn't _been on and pulled his phone out to give them a moment to themselves.

Sharon said nothing was going on, and Rusty believed her, but she and Flynn had been out to dinner more than a few times. He didn't want to ask, because what she did with her life was her own business. She could have been dating Andrea Hobbs for all he really cared. As long as anything remotely soppy or cute stayed out of his view, he would be fine.

Sharon glanced back at- _well, he was her son now, essentially_- her son, but he appeared to be absorbed in his phone. She followed Andy to the door and leaned against it as he fumbled his jacket on in the hall.

"That was a hell of a party, Sharon."

"Especially for someone who lives in a cave, hmm?"

Andy grinned and looked down for a moment. "He's never going to get tired of saying that stuff."

Sharon snorted. "I hope not. It's almost sweet. As sweet as 'Wicked Witch' can be."

It was his turn to laugh. "We ought to do this more often. Last time I remember doing a team thing like this is when the Johnsons came out and cooked us all Christmas dinner in the murder room."

She smiled at the memory. "Those were the days." She hummed, lost in thought for a moment. "I can't believe everything that's happened since then."

Brenda Leigh's resignation. The closure of the Stroh case. Rusty. Wade Weller. Jack. She was turning a chapter in her life, she supposed. Her new team. An-

"Sharon?"

"Hmm?" She glanced up, jolted from her thoughts.

"You've got-" he touched his lip. "Blue."

She reached up and he shook his head.

"Over, no- other way, no, too far." He reached out suddenly and swiped her lower lip with his thumb. "There you go." He seemed faintly embarrassed.

She wasn't sure what to say, so she just smiled. "Thank you."

"Sure thing, Captain."

There they were, back on solid ground. "Good night, Lieutenant."

"'Night."

She watched him go for a moment, then stepped back inside.

"Rusty?"

He set the phone down and sat up. "Yeah?" Whatever he had avoided, it had been quiet and lasted barely a minute.

"Did you have a good time?"

He watched her touch her mouth with one finger. She must have been rubbing the icing off. It was funny, so he hadn't told her about it. He grinned. "Yeah. That was. . . nice. I mean, no one's ever-"

She shushed him and sat down. "Be careful what you say, or I might find an excuse for another celebration."

He raised his eyebrows. "Yeah?"

"I'm sure I could find an occasion." She tossed her hair over her shoulder, smiling, and he knew he'd lose the contest if he chose to start it.

"Oh my God, you and finding reasons for everything."

She laughed. "Maybe we'll do something spontaneous, then. A surprise birthday party."

"God, no!"

She laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."

He rolled his eyes, but found he wasn't totally opposed to the idea. It was nice to have someone who cared enough to organize something like a graduation party, even if it was small and mostly just work-friends. It was a night with more laughter and happiness and processed sugar than usual, and that was that mattered. Well, maybe not the sugar part, exactly.

It was a well-deserved chance to cut loose and live.

**_A/N- It kinda went shippy, didn't it? Sorry. Just fyi, in this story especially, I'm trying to keep everything on the straight and narrow. ie: No matter how much I think Sharon and Andrea would be a fabulous pair or Kris should stop by and say hi, I'm probably not going to do it unless it makes sense with canon. Thank you for understanding._**

**_I'm going to be in DC next Monday, so I might see the episode. I won't see the finale (noooooo), because I'll be flying back home literally all day, but I'll catch up before I head back down to school. It feels terrible to say that. Going back to school. Gehh. _**

**_Well, safe travels to everyone else who's going elsewhere. Love to all._**


	8. Sweet Revenge

_**A/N- I'm writing/uploading his from my phone, but I think it all looks okay. Let me know if it's off. I was oh so happy that Ricky and Rusty now seem to get along. However, that episode kind of blew all of our backstory head canons out of the water. Except for the Chinese takeout one. (: Enjoy!**_

She had been _so_ furious at Ricky. Actually, she'd been slightly angry and quite disappointed, but the disappointment had fueled her fury, which was how she had found herself in the hall, about to slam her door.

Then she remembered that, no, she wasn't the only resident of the eleventh floor. The last time she had been so angry, it had been just after Rusty had moved in, when she booted him out of her living room. She had gotten a polite, but somewhat annoyed, call from her then-neighbor.

This time she had remembered to close the door quietly.

And now her anger had passed and both boys seemed to be getting along.

She watched as Ricky carried the Chinese take-out to the kitchen and deposited the leftovers in the fridge. He was running his fingers through his hair self-consciously as Rusty set the plates in the dishwasher.

Sharon sighed happily, trying not to 'snort-laugh' again.

"Ricky, come here." She waved him over, and both he and Rusty came to her side.

They were both too tall. She stood and reached up towards Ricky's hair. He pulled back, thinking she was going to harass his still-short beard.

"Mom-"

"Hush." She ran her hand over his head, trying to figure out if the damage to his dark locks could be easily mended. "Go to the bathroom. I just need to grab my scissors."

"_Mom_!" Ricky yelped. "Come on!"

Rusty snorted and Ricky immediately turned to face him.

"Don't be laughin'!" he repeated. "If you're to be part of this family, you have to be on my side. It's bad enough being the only guy, let alone the youngest person. She-" he jerked a thumb at Sharon. "-and Emily would always gang up on me. Shopping, dancing, art exhibits... The guys in my frat thought I was nuts when I rushed, because I hadn't done anything _remotely_ normal."

Sharon rolled her eyes as she led the way to the bathroom. "That's not true. We went to baseball games."

"Yeah, Homicide versus Traffic. Real normal."

"House with a pool. Tell me you didn't like that."

Ricky dropped onto the closed toilet seat. "It was great, except when I brought friends home and my mother was trying to break an Olympic speed record for freestyle."

Rusty shot her a look. "I'm having second thoughts about this whole adoption thing." He looked around the room, and decided the edge of the tub would be a good place to sit.

"Rusty, Ricky knows this full well, but the LAPD had a team in a local triathlon fundraiser for some charity, and I volunteered to be the swimmer. I needed to practice. I'll have you know that we did win." She circled her eldest son like a shark, trying to figure out where she wanted to start. The whole thing was a mess.

Rusty watched impassively as Sharon trimmed Ricky's hair. By the time she finished, it was at least more even. It was still kind of weird, but slightly less so.

Sharon took a step back and looked at her handiwork. "Do you want to shave? I'm sure I have Jack's spare-"

"Mom! I just spent all summer growing it out. No! Thank you," he added as an afterthought.

There was a brief silence.

"Dude, did that little bit of scruff really take you _all_ summer?" Rusty finally asked.

Ricky opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Instead, there was a muffled squeak from Sharon's corner. She had both hands over her mouth, and her face was turning red.

"_Come_ on! I thought you weren't going to laugh at me."

Sharon made one last effort to keep from laughing, but she snorted and then burst into full-blown laughter.

She sobered quickly when Rusty tried to leave.

"Sit down," she said in a steely tone. "You don't get to escape that easily. You've been in need of a trim for a while."

Rusty closed his eyes as Sharon advanced on him with the scissors. The last thing he saw was his new brother grinning wickedly.

"Welcome to our family."

**_A/N- So I'm definitely not seeing next week's episode, as I'll be on a plane. But maybe Tuesday? I'll be back. Enjoy the finalé!_**


	9. Zoo Story

_**Oh my gods. Another motherfrakking hiatus. Why?! **_

_**-Everyone Ever**_

Sharon leaned against the wall as soon as she had passed the double doors that separated the jail's inner corridors from the visitation room. She had seen the icy threat in Sharon Beck's eyes and heard the wild scream that followed, and, oh, it had been such an effort to maintain her own calm facade.

_What have I done?_

Every last chance she'd ever had of making friends- or at least polite acquaintance- with Rusty's mother had passed. They had more than passed. Her chances had been shredded like a confidential FBI dossier.

She hadn't even told Rusty what she was doing. Provenza and Buzz had showed her the horrific conversation between mother and son, and then she and Provenza had taken the situation into their own hands. Andrea Hobbs had been called- _discreetly_- and informed of the situation.

The lawyer had given her own opinion on what should happen, and then the legally correct opinion. Sharon was more inclined to follow Andrea's "Let's charge her with child endangerment and abandonment, felony drug use, felony shoplifting, and didn't she borrow $500 dollars from your department and never return it?" than the less judicious but more rational one-year agreement.

_"I will have you randomly tested for drugs. I will have your cell searched. I will have confidential informants report to _me_ upon your behavior."_

The words had sounded harsh and cold. It was still more than Sharon Beck deserved, though.

She sighed.

_Oh God, what did I do?_

She had come alone, worried that her temper might get the better of her, which was something her team didn't need to see. She had been brought into Major Crimes for the explicit purpose of being cool-headed, rational, by-the-book.

The visitation had been none of the above.

She drove herself back to Parker Center, keeping her entire focus on the road. She parked in the spot marked "MCD 1" and took the elevator to the ninth floor, where she promptly smacked into Fritz Howard. He was leaning against the wall, breathing slowly, as if he was trying to calm himself.

"Chief Howard."

"Captain."

She smiled tightly. "Headed home?"

If anything, he looked annoyed by her question. "No, I just needed. . . a moment to myself."

"Oh," she looked down. "I'll just go." It wasn't her normal response, and he knew it.

"Captain, is everything alright?"

She snorted. "It'll all work out in the end, I suppose." She looked him over and frowned slightly, eyes narrowing. Something was off. She couldn't place her finger on what it was, but he looked different somehow. He had been acting differently, too, come to think of it. Maybe it was just adjustment to the new job, but she didn't think so.

He seemed to sense her gaze and straightened his jacket out. Its tailoring gave him away. The suit wasn't fitting right.

She reached out, propriety forgotten in her concentration. Her fingers brushed his shoulder and caught on the strap of the pacemaker vest.

They both froze.

"Chief-"

"Captain-" he started at the same time.

"I think we ought to have a chat," she said finally, raising an eyebrow. "You don't need to be anywhere?"

"No." He seemed annoyed to have been found out.

She nodded. "Wait for me in my office. I'll bring us both some tea. Decaffeinated." She started to walk away, then turned and bowed her head slightly. "Chief."

He smiled slightly. "You're the boss."

She snorted and left him in the hall.

Several minutes later, she rejoined him in her office. The tea was placed on the desk, and the blinds to the murder room rattled as she closed them sharply.

"So," she said.

He leaned back in his chair and looked at her. "Captain, I would have thought that between all the work you've done with me and Brenda, you'd know that I'm not going to give you information for free."

She rolled her eyes over the rim of her mug. "For heaven's sake. I think you have more at stake here than I, Chief."

"Do you really want to start my LAPD relation with you off with a pissing contest?"

She glared at him darkly, and from the look's sheer vexation, he could tell what was bothering her.

"It's something to do with Rusty, isn't it? Whatever's bothering you?" He was right. She had heard the boy's name, and her expression instantly dropped into a perfect poker face.

She broke first, to his surprise, leaning back in her chair with a sigh.

"I threatened his mother today."

That was a shocker.

"I told her that she was either going to take my deal or I would make sure she served every hour of her six year sentence, and if she wanted to appeal _that, _I would take her to trial and put her away for even longer."

Fritz didn't know what to say. Captain Rulebook, Women's Coordinator and former head of FID, IA, and PSB, had broken policy on camera. Not that it would ever come to anything. With the right kind of lawyer, Rusty's mother might be able to smack the Captain with a formal complaint or a citation for an overly-aggressive interview, but Sharon was likely friends with every lawyer in town and the kind of legal aid Sharon Beck would need was far out of her price range.

"Bravo." The word slipped out.

Sharon laughed. "Thank you. I'm not worried about action against me-" she had read his mind. "-but I just feel. . . as bad as her. Resorting to threats of the worst damage I can do. . ."

Fritz leaned forward and clasped her wrist. "Look, Captain, Sharon, you did better than anyone I know would have done. You offered the damn woman a deal. And a damn good one from what it sounds like. Most people would have just subtly gotten her sentence extended or used their informants to find when she did drugs and then nailed her with a test the next day."

Sharon looked thoughtful. "That hadn't actually crossed my mind. Thank you," she said wryly. She took a sip of tea. "Your turn."

He sobered quickly. "First, you have to swear you won't tell anyone else. Not Pope, not Taylor, not McGinnis or Provenza, not even Brenda. I know you two talk still."

She looked confused, then worried. "What-?"

"Do you promise?"

She frowned. "I don't know what I'm prom-"

"It's nothing illegal. It's not alcohol-related. Or drugs," he added as an afterthought. "It's just something that I'd like to keep private for the time being. You won't really be breaking any policies or anything."

She sighed again. "This seems to be the day for toeing the line. I swear not to tell anyone without your prior consent unless it's an emergency."

He winced slightly at the word. "Thank you." He reached up to loosen his tie and undo the first two buttons on his shirt. "Mike Tao knows. I told him that under no condition was he to talk to anyone, yourself included. Don't blame him."

"Alright."

"It's an external pacemaker. I-" He stopped at Sharon's shocked gasp.

"You should _not_ be here! _Oh my God_, you were in the field! What if you had been shot? Or-"

"Hey! Hey! Calm down. I don't want your whole team to hear through the wall."

She took a deep breath and held it, staring at her desk. "Even if we take your personal health out of the equation," she said finally. "You're a liability to everyone else. I won't say anything, but I'd like to cut back on your fieldwork." She held up a hand to stave off his protests. "I am not done. Your job is largely administrative; we discussed this earlier. Give your bulldog some more slack and let her run the fieldwork. She seems to enjoy it."

"McGinnis?"

"The one and only."

"So what? Let her work the field and I'll push paper? For how long?"

"How long do you have the pacemaker?"

He didn't have an answer.

Sharon hummed in faint amusement. "That's what I thought. Talk to your doctor. See what's best. If the best thing is. . . is immediate action, then do it. Take the time to do everything early so it doesn't hurt more later."

"You sound like you know what you're talking about."

She smiled. "Oh, Agent Howard, this applies to much more than just pacemakers. Illness, work, divorce."

He froze for a moment until realizing that she _had _said the d-word intentionally and it didn't bother her.

She pretended not to notice. "If it's more of a long-term thing, then we'll work around it. Pope isn't going to go to the trouble of hiring you and then not work with you." She caught his expression "No, I won't tell the Chief. You should tell me anything I need to know, though, just in case something should happen."

Fritz nodded. He had always liked Sharon's direct manner. Brenda could dance around the subject all week if she wanted, but the Captain would always cut right to the core. "Again, Tao know most of this. I'm taking blood thinners. I'm supposed to wear this-" he plucked at the vest. "-all the time. It shocks me if anything gets weird. The doc didn't say it in as many words, but I'm not supposed to get stressed, run around, get shot, or do anything besides sit at a desk."

Sharon looked mildly alarmed. "In other words, today was the _exact_ opposite of what you're supposed to be doing."

He grimaced.

She sighed again. "Your problem is much more serious than mine, I'd say."

He didn't reply, and they sat in silence.

Finally Sharon looked up from the tea she'd been swirling through her mug. "When are you going to tell Brenda?"

"I don't know. I don't want to tell her anything."

Sharon arched an eyebrow. "I'm going to make an assumption, but I think she'd notice if you went to bed with a pacemaker on." She narrowed her eyes. "You aren't thinking of taking it off, are you?"

"It crossed my mind, but no. I'm just worried about how she'll take it."

"Why is that?"

"She doesn't do well with medical problems. I think she over-thinks it all and assumes the worst, then pretends that she thinks everything will be fine."

"Mixed signals, hmm?"

"A little."

"Sounds like her. How is she doing?"

"Good. Hasn't made up her mind about the DC job, yet, but she still has time. Charlie- Charlene- was out to see us again."

"Your niece?"

"Yeah. She's gotten better from a few years ago. She's twenty now, going to college for a theater degree. We see her most summers now." He didn't mention the previous encounter with the pot brownies. What Sharon didn't know wouldn't kill her.

"Good." She was silent briefly, then prompted him again. "Brenda?"

"I guess I'll have to tell her tonight."

"Sooner _is _better."

"Any tips?"

"Do it at home. There will be a small melt-down at the news, I'm sure. Jack was like that, even with the best of things."

His curiosity was piqued. "Jack, your husband, Jack?"

"Mmm. The first time I was pregnant, I made the mistake of telling him while we were out for dinner. I don't think I ever went back to the place. I was convinced they had our faces burned into their memories."

"Wasn't it. . ." he couldn't phrase the question well, but she got the gist.

"Oh, he was excited. It was excitement, then terror, then worry about the financials." She waved her hand. "It was just typical Jack. I'm sure Brenda's not a quarter as theatrical as him, though."

Fritz smiled. "Anything else?"

"Tell her what you've told me, and then all the details you haven't told me. She has a right to know everything. She'll feel better for knowing, and you'll feel better that someone knows."

There was a tap at the door.

"Just a moment!" she called. "Anything else?"

"No. Thanks, Captain. Maybe try calling her tomorrow, if you want."

"I'll do that. Thank _you_ for. . ." she sighed. "For reassurance."

"Sure." He opened the door to let Flynn in. "I'll see you around."

She nodded, then waited for Flynn to get past the door before closing it.

"Andy?"

"Everything okay?"

"I think so." She searched his expression. "Lieutenant Provenza told you about Sharon Beck."

"Yeah."

They stood by the door in silence. It wasn't uncomfortable.

"Sorry you had to do that."

She shrugged. "We're all standing in the mud. I can't take the high ground just because I have the rank."

He nodded. "I guess that's the polite thing to do."

She laughed. "Yes, it is."

"Maybe next time, think about being less polite. Send Sanchez over to County to talk to the kid's mom."

"I don't want to completely terrify her."

"Yeah, well. No big loss if he does. Besides, he hasn't gotten to do his macho routine lately."

"I will take your idea into consideration, then, should I ever need to speak to that woman again." She reached out and squeezed his arm, then led the way out of the office. "Julio?"

"Yes, ma'am?" he glanced up from his computer.

"What, pray tell, is your 'macho routine'?"

The man looked down as the room erupted in hoots and cheers.

"Show her, Julio!"

**_A/N- The flight got in early, but I guess this is it until- what?- November? All the creys, guys. All the creys. That one was good. Not going to lie: I was super excited to see a bunch of cool, kick-arse women in that one! (:_**


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